Blind Melon brings Joe to my mind. Olga does pretty much the same whenever sistahs come knocking in and sway away to the Cha Cha Twist.
Phoenix brings Aure, and cold streets in Montreal.
Language, by Scott Matthew, that friggin' corner, up the hill, Montreal again.
I never listened to Wrath Child after rocking out to it with Anto and that hairy guy at Le Vynil, or any of those bands Sara, Martie and I shared when teenagers.
No one danced to Le Tigre with me once I left Minneapolis.
And everytime I write another fucking list, be sure I'm making a Mix CD.